A misunderstanding nearly tears them apart before they truly get to have their own happily ever after. If Ev let's go of the pain of abandonment, will Case open up to her? Or will they be stuck in the past forever?

Not his relationships, which have been few and far between since his brutal divorce. Not the drama of working in a tattoo parlor, which seems to be around every corner. When things get him down, he smiles and cracks a joke. But he’s not the kind of man you cross, or you’ll find yourself at the wrong end of his fists.

Annika Belousov takes everything seriously.

Like her job as a reality television producer, given that she typically has something to prove. Or her love life, which is defined by a series of requirements — affluent, ambitious, accomplished, to name a few. Definitely her family, who worked their whole lives to afford her every opportunity, a sacrifice she doesn’t take lightly. When she’s tapped to produce a reality show at Joel’s shop, she doesn’t think twice, just goes in for the kill, as if there were any other way.

The second Annika walks into Joel’s shop, he makes it his mission to crack her open, but she’s not having it. He’s all wrong — too crass, too hairy, too un-serious. But it doesn’t take her long to find out there’s more to him than smirks and tattoos. And what she finds could put her career and his heart on the line.

Not that Joel cares. Because for the first time in a long time, he’s found his tonic.

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, even though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. Her favorite word starts with f and ends with k.

From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's sleeping, cleaning, or designing graphics.

A woman’s mouth will tell you anything, but her body never lies. That’s how I like it. I don’t get caught up in any drama, and I sure as hell don’t get attached. Until her: Chloe Archer. She started as a job, but now she’s more than that. And now I know how it feels to claim her, I don’t want anyone but her. On her knees. Spread wide on my bed. Up against the wall and screaming my name. I’m not fussy. I’ll take it all, a hundred times over, and still crave one more taste. There’s just one problem: this time, I’m the one who’s lied. I guess what they say is true. Karma can be a real bitch sometimes. But karma’s got nothing on me. I’m not giving Chloe up without a fight, and you better believe, I play dirty. That girl doesn’t stand a chance. My body doesn’t lie either, and I’m going to show her just what the truth feels like. Every inch. Every thrust. All the way to the fucking hilt. Yeah, Chloe belongs to me now. She just doesn’t know it yet.

My Dallas Fire & Rescue Kindle World is an amazing world filled with the action and suspense of fighting fires and the drama of saving lives, combined with the intimacy of those moments when the heroes and heroines are brought together amid the danger. From battling huge blazes all across the city to saving accident victims to working with all forms of law-enforcement, Dallas Fire & Rescue explores every facet of heroic action and romantic adventure. And the stories don't necessarily have to be tied to the Dallas area, either. They could just as easily take place anywhere, as long as there’s some tie to Station 58 and the men and women who work there. With heroic firefighters and life-saving paramedics, the possibilities for stories are limitless, and I'm excited about other authors writing in the world I love so much.

The first time I tasted Whiskey, I fell flat on my face. Literally. I was drunk from the very first sip, and I guess that should have been my sign to stay away. Jenna and I were running the trail around the lake near her house, sweat dripping into our eyes from the intense South Florida heat. It was early September, but in South Florida, it might as well have been July. There was no “boots and scarves” season, unless you counted the approximately six weeks in January and February where the temperature dropped below eighty degrees. As it was, we were battling ninety-plus degrees, me trying to be a show off and prove I could keep up with Jenna’s cheerleading training program. She had finally made the varsity squad, and with that privilege came ridiculous standards she had to uphold. I hated running — absolutely loathed it. I would much rather have been on my surf board that day. But fortunately for Jenna, she had a competitive best friend who never turned down a challenge. So when she asked me to train with her, I’d agreed eagerly, even knowing I’d have screaming ribs and calves by the end of the day. I saw him first. I was just a few steps ahead of Jenna, and I’d been staring down at my hot pink sneakers as they hit the concrete. When I looked up, he was about fifty feet away, and even from that distance I could tell I was in trouble. He seemed sort of average at first — brown hair, lean build, soaked white running shirt — but the closer he got, the more I realized just how edible he was. I noticed the shift in the muscles of his legs as he ran, the way his hair bounced slightly, how he pressed his lips together in concentration as he neared us. I looked over my shoulder, attempting to waggle my eyebrows at Jenna and give her the secret best friend code for “hot guy up ahead”, but she had stopped to tie her shoes. And when I turned back around, it was too late. I smacked into him — hard — and fell to the pavement, rolling a bit to soften the fall. He cursed and I groaned, more from embarrassment than pain. I wish I could say I gracefully picked myself up, smiled radiantly, and asked him for his number, but the truth is I lost the ability to do anything the minute I looked up at him. It was an unfamiliar, warm ache that spread through my chest as I used my hand to shield the sun streaming in behind his silhouette, just how you’d expect the first sip of whiskey to feel. He was bent over, hand outstretched, saying something that wasn’t registering because I had somehow managed to slip my hand into his and just that one touch had set my skin on fire. Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe him, but it was all I kept thinking as I traced his features. His hair was a sort of mocha color, damp at the roots, falling onto his forehead just slightly. His eyes were wide — almost too round — and a mixture of gold, green, and the deepest brown. I didn’t coin the nickname Whiskey until much later, but it was that moment that I saw it for the first time — those were whiskey eyes. The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in. He had the longest lashes and a firm, square jaw. It was so hard, the edges so clean that I would have sworn he was angry with me if it weren’t for the smile on his face.He was still talking as my eyes fell over his broad chest before snapping back up to his sideways grin. “Oh my God, are you fucking blind?!” Jenna’s voice snapped me from my haze as she shoved Whiskey out of the way and latched onto my hand, ripping me back to standing position. I’d barely caught my balance before she whipped around to continue her scolding. “How about you brush that long ass hair out of your eyes and watch where you’re going, huh champ?” Oh no.I didn’t even have time to call dibs, I couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it, before it was too late. I watched it, in slow motion, as Whiskey fell for my best friend before I even had the chance to say a single word to him. Jenna was standing tall, arms crossed, one hip popped in her usual fashion as she waited for him to defend himself. This was her protocol — it was one of the reasons we got along. We were both what you’d call “spitfires”, but Jenna had the distinct advantage of being cripplingly gorgeous on top of having an attitude. She flipped her long, wavy blonde ponytail behind her and cocked a brow. And then he did, too. His smile grew wider as he met her eyes, and it was the same look I’d watched fall over guy after countless guy. Jenna was a unicorn, and men were enamored by her. As they should have been — she had platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs for days and a personality to boot. Now, before you go thinking that I was the insecure best friend - I had it going on, too. I worked hard, I was talented - just not at the things traditional high school boys valued. But we’ll get to that. “Hi,” Whiskey finally said, extending his hand to Jenna this time. His eyes were warm, smile inviting — if I had to pick the right word for him, just one, I’d say charming. He just oozed charm. “I’m Jamie.” “Well, Jamie, maybe you should make an appointment with the eye doctor before you run over another innocent jogger. And you owe Brecks an apology.” She nodded to me then and I cringed at my name, wondering why she felt the need to spill it at all. She always called me B — everyone did — so why did she choose the moment I was face to face with the first boy to ever make my heart accelerate to use my full name? Jamie was still grinning, eying Jenna, trying to figure her out, but he turned to me after a moment with that same crooked smile. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He said the words with conviction, but lifted his brows on that last line because he and I both knew who wasn’t paying attention to the trail, and he wasn’t the guilty party. “It’s fine,” I murmured, because for some reason I was still having a difficult time finding my voice. Jamie tilted his head just a fraction, his eyes hard on me this time, and I felt naked beneath his gaze. I’d never had anyone look at me that way — completely zeroed in. It was unnerving and exhilarating, too. But before I could latch onto the feeling, he turned back to Jenna, their eyes meeting as slow smiles spread on both of their faces. I’d seen it a million times, but this was the first time I felt sick watching it happen. I saw him first, but it didn’t matter. Because he saw her.

Author Bio

Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.

Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).

When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.

Kim is a daydreamer. So much so that if daydreaming could be a hobby it would be her favorite. It's how her stories are born and how they take root. An imagination that runs wild is something to be thankful for, and she is very thankful. :)

She grew up in New York and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She's always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and with the rest of her time embraces one of her biggest passions--writing.

Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read.

She likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and Happily-Ever-Afters. She loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.

Marriage Games by CD Reiss

"Marriage Games is one of the most powerful novels I have ever read. CD Reiss gets into the soul of her hero and heroine and never lets go. A strong, clear picture of the psychological and emotional challenges of a D/s relationship, especially in a marriage. Why it works and why it might not. Can’t wait for the next one." ―Desiree Holt, USA Today bestselling author

Synopsis:

THIRTY DAYSThat’s all Adam Steinbeck demands of his wife.Thirty days in a remote cottage, doing everything he demands. After that, he’ll sign her divorce papers and give her complete ownership of their company.THIRTY DAYSThat’s how long he has to rediscover the man he once was. The Dominant Master he hid when he fell in love with her five years ago.THIRTY DAYSShe wants the business they built badly enough to go to the cottage for a month. Cut off ties to the world and do his bidding. She can submit to him with her body, but her heart will never yield.She thinks this is his pathetic attempt to repair their marriage.She’s wrong.

Excerpt:

“Pull your skirt up.” I said it without acknowledging the possibility that she’d disobey. It felt good to use those words and that tone. To watch her eyes go to the floor.“Trust me.” I said it so low she was just within range to hear it. “Five minutes. Then we don’t have to fight over the car.”I stepped back and set my watch with a beep. It wasn’t about the car for her. The Jag was the least of her worries, but it was a tangible justification.For the downcast eyes. For the way her breathing changed. Maybe every bone in her body was vanilla. Maybe not.“Quit any time,” I said. “Just say the word.”She laid her hands on her hips.Curled her fingers.Gripped fabric.Pulled up her skirt.The tops of her thighs came into view then met at the crotch. I was hard already and made no move to hide it. She noticed and stopped moving the skirt.“Higher,” I said as if telling her how to center a picture over the couch. Higher was where it had to be. It wasn’t a request.Up it went, revealing cotton underwear in a pink so pale they were almost white.“Now what?” she asked.“How do you feel?”“Weird, Adam. Really weird.”“Why?”“Because I’m standing here with my skirt around my waist? Because you told me to? For a car, no less, which is creepy.”She was so honest. I ached for her honesty.“You’re not obeying me for an object. You’re obeying me so I do something. Take an action or don’t.”“You think that’s not weird?”“No, I don’t. And we have four minutes.” I stepped forward. Part of her discomfort was in the physical distance between us. I’d stepped away so she didn’t feel threatened, but my gaze was keeping her from relaxing. I kept my eyes on hers. I could smell her perfume and feel the shortness of her breath. “Are you turned on?”“Sex isn’t going to get me back. I’m sorry—”“Touch yourself.”Her initial shock and offense lasted only a second before she pressed her lips together and reached down, shoulders angling, hand thrusting as if checking to make sure her cunt was still there.We have hundreds of bones in our bodies, and sometimes we won’t acknowledge the preferences of the ones that scare us.“Are you wet?”“A little.”I gripped the edge of the vanity and put my lips near her cheek, millimeters from touching her.“You don’t love me anymore,” I whispered. “But I could always make you wet, and you always came for me. Like our Italy vacation. In Florence. Coming back from that club, in the little alley. Against the wall. I ripped through your underwear.”Her breathing got shallow and fast.“I fucked you in the dark, and when you came, you screamed my name so loud all the lights in the apartments went on.”“That was good.” She turned her face toward mine.When her lips nearly touched me, I pulled away just enough. “I said I wouldn’t touch you.”“I changed my mind.”I wasn’t fooled. Her arousal was talking. I owned her. She’d do whatever I told her. But I wanted something very simple. I wanted her pleasure. “Take the juice from your cunt and rub it on your clit. Make it wet.”“Adam.”“What?”“What’s come over you?”“Do it.” I felt her arm move against me. “Rub back and forth. Be consistent. One-two-one-two.”When I felt that she had it, I stepped back. She stopped. Her knees were bent slightly and her fingers had taken her cunt from the side of the crotch, not the waistband. She never ceased to surprise me.“One-two-one-two, huntress.”“Is this your way of getting back at me?”“One-two-one-two. Let me see you come. You’re so beautiful when you come. You’ve gone this far.”Her body must have been able to override her mind, because she moved her finger again, closing her eyes. Her cheeks reddened and her knees bent more deeply.“In Florence. An hour after we got to the hotel. I came so deep in you that night. I fucked you from behind with your leg up on the dresser. I wanted to thrust my whole body inside you. I loved you that much. And I gave up who I was. Last night, at the club, I remembered what I was. I was a man who was obeyed. I dominated women, and they submitted to me. The result was what you’re about to feel. Complete pleasure.”She let out a long, low groan, leaning on the vanity, twisting. I could have fucked her right then. I could have bent her over the counter and pounded her. But that wasn’t the point. No. Watching her hand move under her clothes because I commanded it. That was the point.An uh escaped her throat. Years of marriage had taught me that meant she was about to come.My watch beeped.“Time’s up,” I said.Her eyes went wide. Her hand stopped.“Thank you,” I said. “We’re done. I’ll send you the title to the car. You might want to pull your skirt down, since I can’t lock the door from the outside.”It was hard to walk away from her panting, bent frame without tasting her cunt or even seeing more of her reaction, but I turned the corner, unlocked the door, and left the bathroom.

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About the Author:

CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn't pick up, she's at the well, hauling buckets.Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master's degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.Critics have dubbed the books "poetic," "literary," and "hauntingly atmospheric," which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she's some sort of braggart who's too good to chop a cord of wood.If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

High King Eirik is left to suffer the consequences of his ancestors; his race is dying. With only males being born in Valhalla, their days are numbered. Unless, he can find a way to help populate his world. When he encounters a new planet, Earth, Eirik turns to them for help.

Astrid was once a beautiful and sought after model, but those days are over. After an accident left her scarred and disfigured, she feels her suffering will never end. She believes her life is over, until she is kidnapped by sexy alien.

Zadie Milo is the author of the upcoming sci-fi romance series, Guardians of Valhalla. The written word has always been her passion, since childhood. That love has only grown as the years passed. She grew up in a small town in Minnesota, but now lives in Missouri with her beloved husband and her baby, a 156 lb. English Mastiff named Taffy.

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I received an arc in exchange for an honest review
Just a warning to people that if you don't like dark reads then this isn't the book for you, as there are scenes of violence and taboo subjects.
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**** I received this arc in exchange for an honest review***
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